


Puppeteer

by Myrime



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, First Meetings, Gen, Morally Grey Tony Stark, SHIELD, Slightly Unhinged Tony, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve doesn't want to work for SHIELD, Still A Weapons Designer Tony, Tony thinks he owns SHIELD, they'll be best buddies soon enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-23 19:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20202370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: "You," Tony says as he looks down at the trembling body of Steve Rogers, "are a disappointment."It's too bad that Fury wants Rogers on the team anyway.





	Puppeteer

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for the [Iron Man Bingo 2019 Round 2](https://iron-man-bingo.tumblr.com/), square: "You're a disappointment."
> 
> I didn't want to do this about Howard and Tony for once, although I had some ideas lined up. Well, this was the result.   
Enjoy!

Afghanistan changed Tony. Of course it did. Before, he would not have taken the time to sit in a street café, sipping his coffee as if it is the only thing he has come here for, while he looks at the apartment complex on the other side of the street through his sunglasses.

Fourteen people are currently in there, but Tony is only interested in one. JARVIS feeds him information on the stability of the building, on possible structural and collateral damage should it come to a fight. He is also analysing Tony’s caffeine levels as if that has ever stopped Tony from pouring more coffee down his throat. He has already filled half of this cup with whiskey, so it is not like he is not watching his health.

“Target is asleep,” JARVIS speaks up when there are only a few sips left in Tony’s cup. Perfect timing. Tony is sure JARVIS would have intervened if he had ordered another one.

For the past hours, the man they are looking for has been restless, pacing the small apartment, then he tried to sleep but woke up from a nightmare only minutes later. He has also wolfed down most of what was in the fridge. Now, the readings indicate that he is not going to wake up again soon. Tony almost regrets having to disturb the sleep that he has waited so long for.

Leaving enough bills on the table to cover his coffee and the tip, Tony walks over the street and lets himself into the apartment building. He saunters in there as if he belongs here, knowing exactly where he is going and trusts JARVIS to inform him should any trouble arise.

Tony does not go in guns blazing. Instead, he opens the door quietly, has a look around the flat, which belongs to a Sam Wilson, who appears to be a nice guy, although he might come to regret that. Tony’s feet make no sound as he walks towards the bedroom. Ever since he has begun experimenting on a stealth suit, he has included some of the features into his everyday life. Walking soundlessly is definitely a perk.

Propping the door open, Tony remains where he is and takes in the target first. The man lies curled around himself on the bed. From what little there is visible of him, he looks exactly like in the pictures; blonde, tall, muscles piled upon muscles. He is nice to look at, but Tony has done enough looking for one day.

Tony walks up to the foot of the bed, looks down with a strange feeling in his gut, and clears his throat.

The change is instantaneous. The man’s muscles tense as he comes awake. One moment, he is lying down, the next his back is pressed against the headboard, looking around wildly until his eyes fall on Tony. He is shivering and his heart, as JARVIS supplies helpfully directly in Tony’s ear, is racing.

“You,” Tony says as he looks down at the shivering body of Steve Rogers, “are a disappointment.”

In all the stories Tony has heard, growing up, Captain America was that inspiring figure, never backing down from doing the right thing. In reality, Steve Rogers is a man like everybody else, frightened and confused, running from his problems as if there is any escaping them. Tony never runs. He is built from sterner stuff, and he hates that he has wasted years of his childhood looking up to a man who is just as fallible as everybody else. 

Rogers blinks up at him, perhaps wondering whether Tony is only a figment of his mind. The tension never leaves him, but he does not lash out. He probably does not see Tony as a threat. Few people did before Iron Man, and Rogers does not know what he is capable of, with the suit or without.

Right now, Tony is wearing a three-piece-suit and his sunglasses. He looks wealthy and careless and altogether not like someone who would break into an apartment complex – at least not in this part of town – so he understands Rogers’ confusion. Being underestimated has made things so much easier for Tony countless times.

Rogers’ throat moves as if he wants to speak, but no sounds passes his lips. He just blinks several times, then pinches the bridge of his nose. Tony expected something _more_.

He has been watching Rogers for days now, ever since Fury came to him after they lost their newly defrosted supersoldier, expecting Tony to fix their mess as usual. His unfamiliarity with modern times aside, Rogers should have had more of a plan to his flight. As someone praised for his strategic genius, getting on the first bus out of New York and then turning to stress-running in Washington until Mr. Wilson stumbled over him and offered to help does not sound very strategical to Tony. Perhaps that only comes out when there is gunfire and falling bombs. It will not be that hard to arrange for that. _If_ Tony decides to go along with Fury’s scheme to pull Rogers on the team. For now, Tony still has doubts.

“Dear old dad always said you were his greatest creation,” Tony continues in a tone that is almost pleasant if not for the sharpness lingering beneath the words. “But I just don’t see it.”

Tony makes a show of looking Rogers up and down. He is wearing an obviously borrowed shirt, which does not leave much to imagination, stretching quite nicely over Rogers’ muscles.

Rogers looks more aware now, but he still does not say anything. He watches Tony, almost like he is biding his time. Well, Tony decides to start poking the bear, lest they keep staring at each other for even longer.

“I think you’re just like a dog,” Tony says, the words belying the sweetness of his tone, “who throws himself happily into every fight he can find. But when you don’t like what you hear, you become rabid.” Clicking his tongue, Tony leans a bit forward, although he takes care to remain out of Rogers’ immediate reach. “That’s not a good trait in a dog.”

Rogers’ demeanour changes from confused and shaken to angry within seconds. His forehead folds into a frown, while his eyes become more focused, assessing. It is too bad that all of this comes too late. Tony could have taken him out a dozen times by now, in a dozen different ways.

“Who are you?” Rogers asks. He shifts his position to better push himself up if needed, trying and failing to be subtle about it.

Tony is sure the only reason things have not already devolved into a fight, is because Tony does not look like any of the other goons Fury must have sent to follow Rogers up until now. Instead, he looks like a businessman, and people like Rogers do not know to be afraid of those. Although Rogers should know better, considering he was acquainted with Howard.

“Your employer works for me,” Tony answers brightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “If you ask Fury, he’d tell you I’m working for him, but I could tear down his laughable organisation during my lunch break. I let him keep his illusion, though. Makes working together much easier. Unfortunately, that makes you my problem,” Tony points at Rogers, grimacing, “and I’m not known for letting my weapons run rampant.”

The world knows that by now after he has torn Stane down for all the world to see from the throne he had built on Tony’s shoulders.

Afghanistan has changed more than his tendency to be impatient. People say Tony snapped over there, that he has gone mad under torture. The truth is, he has always been a little unhinged. That should not surprise anyone, considering that Stark blood is running through his veins. He has just stopped pouring so much energy into pretending otherwise. Life is much easier like this.

Stane and the Ten Rings also made him realize that supplying his country with the biggest sticks is not the best way to deal with war. Especially considering he trusted the wrong person and let his weapons end up all over the world, in all the wrong hands. Tony has to _be_ the biggest stick himself, on the field and off.

He has never had much patience for politics, but he stepped up nonetheless. Everybody has known him before, if just as the billionaire playboy who also sells the best weapons around. It was not so hard to form that image into something with more political sway. The prodigal son returned home, a little bit broken but more ready than ever to defend his country.

Stark Industries has never sold more or better weapons, the stock sky-rocketed. In just a few years, Tony has taken Howard’s legacy and made it into something to be really in awe of.

Reaching out to SHIELD had been the logical next step, considering its influence and the fact that it is his father and godmother’s brainchild. Of course, it comes with annoying tasks like hunting down an errand Captain America, who does not yet know that it is best for him to play along until there is a fool-proof opening – not that Tony plans on letting him have that. Ever.

If Fury and his extra-terrestrial source are to be believed, they have worse enough things coming for them to need all capable hands on deck. Even if it means that Tony has to deal with a defrosted hero he really could have done without ever meeting.

“I’m not a weapon,” Rogers finally says. His voice is hoarse, likely from screaming out earlier during his nightmare.

Tony allows himself to laugh. From his point of view, Rogers appears small, literally and metaphorically. It is probably not a good idea to provoke Rogers but Tony cannot help himself. Angry people make mistakes.

“Erskine wanted to create the perfect soldier, the perfect weapon,” he says, remembering the recruitment flyers Howard kept close to his shrine for Captain America. And there you were, the first in line.”

“I wasn’t –” Rogers protests but Tony cuts him off. They have already wasted enough time.

“Let’s adjourn this argument,” he says shortly. “Fury wants me to put a chip inside you so he can track you down next time you run off.” Tony does not need such primitive means, and there is already a tracker in Rogers’ phone, but he keeps that to himself. Rogers looks spooked enough already. Spooked on the verge of getting furious. “For now, I’m telling him no. I can change my mind any time, though, so you had better not make an enemy out of me.”

Which is easier said than done since Tony does not have a very high opinion of Steve Rogers already.

Rogers straightens further. He has not yet made a move to stand up, but he probably thinks surprise will be on his side if he strikes from his place on the bed.

“Who. Are. You?” Rogers repeats his earlier question, although with much more of a bite to it now.

“Shouldn’t that be obvious? They told me you are smart, but I guess that only works when you’re trying to figure out where to best hit people.” Spreading his arms, Tony sticks his chin out and says, “I’m Tony Stark. Don’t compare me to my father, I’ve surpassed him a long while ago.”

Right before him, Tony can see how Rogers re-evaluates him as no threat at all. This will be fun, at least until it starts to become annoying. Rogers should be concerned with how Tony found him and managed to sneak up on him until he was literally standing over the bed. Yet, people like Rogers put too much on appearances.

“And what do you want from me?”

All his childhood, Tony wanted to live up to Captain America, to make his father proud. Afghanistan has changes that too. Tony is completely his own person now. He prefers others wanting to live up to him.

“Frankly, I would have preferred if you’d stayed in the ice,” Tony explains easily, rocking back on the soles of his feet, seemingly easy to be pushed off balance. “But Fury’s got that idea of a group as a first line of attack against a superhuman threat he thinks is coming, and he wants you on the team.”

Nobody can quite say what that threat is, but as little as Tony likes Fury, he trusts the man’s instincts. Without them, he would not have survived half as long as he has. Peggy personally made him her successor too. That has to count for something. 

“Right now,” Tony continues with some smugness, “_I’m _the team, and I have no problems with it staying that way if you can’t listen to orders.”

His, of course, not Fury’s. But these semantics are better hashed out once they are all back home.

“I’m no one’s attack dog,” Rogers all but growls, hands clenched at his side. 

Tony looks at him with pity. “Except the US Army’s?” he asks and shrugs as if he does not mind that. “You were quite eager then to become their mascot. And they are eager now to get you back.” In fact, they are eager enough that they have stopped bothering Tony about giving them the Iron Man suit for the time being. It will not last, but Tony is glad for the respite. “You’ll find that your nice patriotic title won’t help you much these days if you decide to defy them. Compared to them, Fury’s very lenient. But it’s your choice, the military or SHIELD.”

Rogers does not like his decisions being made for him, Tony would not have needed Peggy’s stories to know that. One look at Roger’s face right now makes it very clear. His lips are pulled down as if he has bitten on something sour even while something suspiciously like relief flashes over his face. It is the anticipation of a fight that has him able to pull himself out of the last lingering traces of his nightmare-induced misery, to shake off the feelings that made him run away in the first place.

“What if I don’t want either of those?” Rogers asks, a little impatient as if he is ready to be done with words.

“I like people going for the third option,” Tony declares with a bright smile. He naturally prefers it when it benefits him. “Sadly, there’s none for you. Sorry,”

Rogers squares his shoulders as he sits fully up. “I refuse,” he says very clearly, staring at Tony as if he thinks he can intimidate him with that alone.

“Wrong answer,” Tony snaps, voice suddenly sharp and without any trace of humour. “Try again.”

Silence engulfs them as they stare at each other as they go from a mostly-friendly chat between a run-away and an intruder to facing off. With a shuddering breath sounding almost a sigh, Steve gets to his feet and Tony lets him, even though his violent intent is apparent in the way he glares. Tony is not afraid of their defrosted supersolider. No matter how good the serum is, it is outdated compared to what Tony has built for himself.

“No,” Rogers says firmly, never breaking eye contact.

He settles into a fighting position, legs hip-width apart, fists raised. Tony is still standing at the foot of the bed, but he has seen videos of Rogers in action, so he knows how fast he is. Rogers does not have his shield. It is no secret that, like this, Tony is no match for Captain America. Luckily, he does not have to be.

Stepping around the bed, Tony taps against the arc reactor hidden under his shirt, and smiles when he feels the armour stretching out over his skin, engulfing him whole.

Rogers must have been informed about Iron Man, although he obviously does not know any specifics. His face goes blank as he stares at the rapidly unfolding metal swallowing Tony whole.

“Let’s do it your way then,” Tony says once he is all suited up. The voice modulator makes his voice sound impassive, even while he feels like giggling at the sheer excitement of going up against Captain America.

He raises his arm and powers up the repulsor, the familiar sound is like music in his ear. Even for someone who does not know exactly what he is facing, this is an unmistakeable threat.

When Rogers does not move, Tony taunts him, “Come on, I love to dance.”

Satisfaction shoots through him when Rogers finches as if he has already been wounded. Peggy had told him about Roger’ last words to her. It might be a low blow to use them like that, but Rogers might as well have not reacted to them at all. Being that sensitive only gets one killed.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Rogers says, even though the trembling eagerness in his position belies that. It is rather belittling of him to insinuate that he can take Tony.

“Great,” Tony exclaims and goes so far as to power down the repulsor, “you’ve got some brain cells left up there. Let’s head right back to SHIELD then. Fury’s got someone to introduce to you. Two people, actually. You’ll like them.” Because there is always a little devil riding Tony’s shoulder, he adds, “One is a redhead. I heard you like to go for them.”

Tony expects the punch even before JARVIS warns him of Rogers’ movement. He does not move, though but lets Rogers split his knuckles on the suit’s faceplate. Despite the power behind it, Tony barely feels a tingle.

Tony waits for the confusion at the ineffective punch to register with Rogers and only then does he react. In one smooth motion, he grabs Rogers’ arm and kicks his legs out from under him. With enough power to knock the breath out of him, Tony pushes Rogers face-first to the ground and follows him down, pinning him down with the armour. He twists Rogers’ arm up his back, applying just enough pressure to make Rogers gasp.

Rogers struggles and tries to throw Tony off, but the suit does not budge even one bit. He is always tinkering with the suit, making it better. Ever since he heard of Rogers having been found in the ice, he put in special effort to be sure it will withstand an assault by the supersoldier. In Tony’s mind, it has been inevitable that they will clash one day, so he does not mind having sped up the schedule a bit.

They lie on the floor for a long minute, Rogers is breathing heavily, while Tony allows himself to grin in the safety of his helmet. It is better not to let Rogers know that he is enjoying himself.

“Are you ready to come back?” Tony asks right in Steve’s ear. “Or I can let you get back up and we can go again.”

Perhaps Rogers would even last longer this time, not underestimating Tony so much.

“Do you feel good about yourself? Hiding behind your suit?” Rogers hisses back. “Take it off and you’re nothing.”

Tony is so bored with people trying to take the moral high road with him, of people reducing him to what he has as if he has not built all of that for himself. Howard might have laid the groundworks for Stark Industries, but Tony has already gone far beyond what his father could have ever achieved with it. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Tony replies, wishing he would have let Rogers punch the suit a couple more times. “I built the suit. If you take it away, I’ll build another, or anything else I can think off.” Leaning forward, he applies more pressure on Rogers’ twisted arm. “What are you without the serum? Erskine and my father made you what you are. If you keep being a bother, I might just go ahead and reverse it.”

For a brief moment, Rogers goes still beneath him, then he fights with new fervour. “You can’t do that,” he says but sounds slightly uncertain about it.

“Everything special about you came out of a bottle,” Tony explains, almost gentle although the voice modulator makes a mockery of it, turning it flat. “You were made, so you can be _un_made.”

Rogers doubles his efforts to get free, but Tony locks his joints in place and becomes literally dead weight on top of Rogers’ body. A lesser human might have been crushed by that. Finally, Rogers relaxes as a sign of surrender, although his expression remains tense, angry.

Tony remains where he is for a moment longer just to drive the point home. Then he gets smoothly to his feet and does not offer Rogers a hand to help him up. It is not even that he dislikes Rogers. From what he has seen up until now, he seems like a decent guy. Nonetheless, it feels like bringing a piece of Howard back to life.

Giving a quiet command, the suit folds back into itself, leaving Tony in his immaculate suit. Rogers, still lying on the ground, tracks the process with keen eyes before he pushes himself up. Standing right in front of each other, if becomes obvious how much taller Rogers is. None of that helps him here, though.

Tony nods, considering the arguing part of their meeting as dealt with. He turns around to look at the room, deliberately leaving his back open. It is as much a show of power as it is a gift. He is not here to make an enemy out of Rogers.

Once he has surveyed the whole room – what little there is – he looks back at Rogers. His lips are pulled up into a wide smile, friendly but obviously hiding teeth.

“I’ve got an apartment waiting for you in my tower.”

Of all the things Tony could have said, Rogers definitely did not expect this. Several emotions wander over Rogers’ face, the most easily recognizable is doubt.

“Why?” he then asks, a dozen more questions waiting beneath that word.

Tony sighs exaggeratedly. “We’re supposed to be a team,” he says as if their altercation just now never happened. “And I’d be grumpy too if I had to live in SHIELD’s barracks. I’ve seen the cell they call your room. I promise you’ll have windows from now on. The view is quite nice too.”

It becomes apparent very quickly that Rogers does not know what to make of Tony. Few people do, though, and he likes it that way.

“Is that what you do?” Rogers then asks. “Going from threatening someone to inviting them to live in your home in under a minute?”

Tony grins and knows it must look manic. “Short answer? Yes,” he says. It is not as if he has much to fear from Rogers.

Afghanistan has changed that too. Tony has never trusted easily, but he is not waiting for others to prove their worth anymore. Neither does he try to prove his. He simply shapes his world in a way that makes it very hard for others to betray him. He will take in Rogers, and even Hawkeye and Black Widow, although he already knows he cannot trust them. In the tower, he will have them under constant surveillance, though. There is no hiding from him anywhere in the world, but especially not in his own kingdom. Fury wants them to play nice, so he will do that – as long as he can make the rules.

“But I didn’t come to threaten you, just to bring you back,” Tony continues nonchalantly, not mentioning how much fun it was anyway. With a gesture at Rogers body, he adds, “I’ve also already designed new armour for you, and since no one else has such a ridiculous body shape, I need you to come. I’d hate for my effort to be wasted.”

The fainted hint of a warning accompanies his tone, not mixing well with his otherwise smiling face.

Tony feels Rogers’ eyes on him, practically hears the thoughts rattling inside his head. His behaviour throws people off, his mood swings, his unpredictability. He likes putting people on edge, though, making them wonder how he will react – especially since it is not usually in their favour. It is a good thing bullets tend to ricochet off the suit. Enough people have tried to get rid of him even before surviving Afghanistan has turned him into a better version of himself. He is not yet done with the world.

In front of him, Rogers’ gaze wander from him to the door and then to the window, checking possible escape routes. The moment he steps onto the street without Tony at his side, two more Iron Man suits will keep him from running further. Tony has promised Fury to bring the good Captain back. If his words fail, his tech will not.

After an eternity of contemplation, Rogers’ stance relaxes a bit. He does not quite look like he is giving in or that he will not try to run again at the first opportunity, but that would have only disappointed Tony further. For now, though, Rogers will play along.

“All right,” Rogers says with some trepidation, “but I’m not going to let you send me anywhere blind. I want to know what we’re doing at all times.”

There should be questions about what _superhuman threat_ is supposed to mean, or why a group of people with special abilities is needed, but Rogers has seen his fair share of strange things, so he takes it at face value for now.

It is amusing, of course, that Rogers thinks he is going to have any say in what is going to happen, but Tony knows how important it is to leave people their illusions, so he nods.

“Done. Now come on before Fury sends the Black Widow after us. She could kill you with her little finger alone.”

Not Tony, though. He has a hundred precautions in place to keep Romanoff from stabbing his back. The moment she makes a single wrong move, she is going to find she made the wrong kind of enemy in him.

“That team of yours,” Rogers asks, taking the first hesitant step towards Tony, “what is it called?”

Tony grins like a shark. “We’re the Avengers.”

It is a fitting name. Vengeance has always been dear to his heart. And Rogers, if the faint glint in his eyes is anything to go by, has some things to put right too, even if it means throwing his lot in with the likes of Tony.

He has a feeling they will work well together once this awkward phase of getting to know each other is over. If not, Tony will make it so.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
